


Together We Are Okay

by ZequoiaRose



Series: The Memories That Were Forgotten [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Comforting Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Suicidal Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZequoiaRose/pseuds/ZequoiaRose
Summary: He’s exhausted, and tired, and so, so alone. Sammy is at Stanford. He left a year ago and hasn’t been back. Dean knows that Sam never wanted this life, and Dean understands that, but he can’t help but feel like Sam just doesn’t want Dean. He will never be enough to keep Sam happy.Sammy left, Dad is somewhere else, and Dean..... just isn’t okay.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: The Memories That Were Forgotten [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732231
Comments: 7
Kudos: 170
Collections: Stanford-era





	Together We Are Okay

Dean is laying on the motel bed, his thoughts swirling, keeping him awake. There’s not even something that is really pressing in his life; tonight he just can’t settle down. This happens more often now than he’d care to admit. On nights like these, his thoughts become his worst enemy, and Dean cannot beat it. 

He’s exhausted, and tired, and so, so alone. Sammy is at Stanford. He left a year ago and hasn’t been back. Dean knows that Sam never wanted this life, and Dean understands that, but he can’t help but feel like Sam just doesn’t want Dean. He will never be enough to keep Sam happy. 

He wants to call Dad. But Dad left too. He left With a “figure your shit out” and Dean doesn’t know when he’ll be back.  
Sammy left, Dad is somewhere else, and Dean..... just isn’t okay. He is tired all the time, and can’t seem to figure out why. He goes outside, but the crushing fear of knowing that something bad is going to happen stops the air in his lungs. As embarrassing as it is to admit, Dean is terrified. Of what exactly, he doesn’t know. He just knows that anything could happen and he’s so tired. The only time he feels alive anymore is when the adrenaline of a hunt hits, but then it doesn’t seem to go away for days, leaving him more exhausted than before. 

He knows he needs to get up, eat something, do anything, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to. He knows also that he should be concerned, but he’s still so tired. 

——

Dean wakes up with a jolt, taking a moment to calm himself from his latest nightmare. More faces of people he let die, more screaming at him to save them, more of him failing and having to watch them die. 

He gets up to flip the light switch on, not caring that it is three in the morning and he only fell asleep an hour ago. These days, he can’t ever seem to sleep despite the aching exhaustion. 

He just wants it all to go away. The sleepless nights, the long days, the tightness in his chest, the knowledge that he isn’t enough for anyone... but it won’t. And he has to keep living through this shit. Alone. 

He sits on the bed again, head in his hands, trying to find the motivation he needs to do his research when he realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he will never save enough people to pay for the bad he has done. His nightmare is still taunting him, all the people he couldn’t save still screaming in his head, Sammy... Sammy yelling that he hated him. 

Dean wants to curl up and possibly never move again, but he knows he can’t do that. He has to keep going.  
Dean shakes his head. Keep going? For what? So he can fail yet again? Maybe he should start looking for a way out, a way to make sure that he never is the reason for someone’s pain again. A way that maybe will let his mind and body rest. 

“What the hell am I thinking?” Dean whispers to himself, feeling cold fear rush through him from his own thoughts. 

Dean knows that he maybe needs help at this point, and he’s finally realizing that he could need it more than he thinks he does. So an idea forms, and he jumps to grab his things and runs to the first car he sees, knowing that he needs out. 

———

He gets to Bobby’s around seven that evening, feeling worse than he had when he left. He turns the car off, but doesn’t make a move to get out. 

What was he doing here? Bobby has enough to worry about. He shouldn’t have to worry any him too. This was a stupid idea. Dean can just go find another motel and wait it out. He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need this. Bobby doesn’t need this. 

He is about to turn the key to leave when a knock at the window makes him jump. Bobby stands outside, waiting for the Dean to roll the window down. Dean does, still a bit jittery. 

“You gonna sit in there all day or are you gonna come in and eat?” With that, Bobby turns and walks into the house, leaving the door open for Dean. Dean hasn’t seen Bobby in more than a year, he can’t remember ever showing up alone without calling, and yet it feels like it hasn’t even been a day. And Dean... can breathe for the first time in months. 

Dean makes his way inside, finding Bobby setting two bowls of soup on the table. 

“Come sit down and eat, kid. You’re not looking so good.”

Dean sits, staring into his bowl as the guilt of what he’s doing to Bobby twists his stomach. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”

Bobby glares up at him in confusion. “For what?”

Dean let’s put a near hysterical laugh and covers his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I know it’s the last thing you need, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

A rough hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his thoughts, Bobby has come over to stand above Dean, a look in his eyes that’s a bit startling. “Boy, you better stop your talking. You know I will always leave the door open for family. If I hear you talking like that again, I’m gonna put a bullet through that thick skull of yours.” He is lying, but Dean knows which parts are true. He nods and Bobby gives his shoulder a squeeze before sitting in his own chair. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean slumps a bit more, but all he says is, “Gone. He went to Stanford.” Despite everything, Dean is proud of Sam for going, and he knows that it leaks a bit into how he talks about him. 

Bobby grunts, giving Dean a once over. “How long ago did he do that?”

“About a year ago?” He says it like he hasn’t been keeping track down to the minute. 

“And where is your dad?”

Dean sighs. “Off hunting who knows what. I don’t know how long he’ll be.”

Bobby grunts as an answer, continuing to stare Dean down. He soon realizes that the younger isn’t going to offer up more information, so he decides to let it be... for now. “Eat your dinner. It’s getting late and I have research I need to do.”  
Dean eats about half of what’s in his bowl before he feels like he’s going to throw up the next bite. He gets up and dumps the rest, feeling Bobby’s eyes on him as he does. 

“I’m going to bed,” Dean says, quietly. He doesn’t wait for an answer before making his way up the stairs. 

———

Bobby watches Dean go with a frown. He has always known that Dean trails too close to laying down and never getting up for comfort. Hell, anyone who talks to Dean longer than a minute knows he’s got a suicidal streak the size of Texas. And he knows that when Dean is exhausted it only gets worse. Right now, the emptiness in Dean’s eyes is terrifying. He’s only seen this look once before. Dean was in bed for a solid week at Bobby’s because John was frustrated and couldn’t get him to move. It scared Bobby then and it scares Bobby now. This young boy knows so much evil, and Bobby wishes he didn’t have to know any of it. Dean seems to always have death and mourning following him, and sometimes Bobby thinks he can’t get away from it long enough to know which way is up. 

The thing is, Dean is very lethal with any weapon of choice and he has the blind tragedy of thinking that everything wrong in the world is his fault. Bobby knows that feeling, not to the extent of Dean, but he knows enough to make him question what drove Dean to seek Bobby out. The only logical answer was as a last attempt at survival. 

———

Dean doesn’t sleep. He tries, but every time he closes his eyes, they’re ripped open by fear. He thought that just being at Bobby’s would help, and it did at first, but now he doesn’t want to move. It’s morning and he can hear Bobby downstairs making coffee. He knows he needs to get up. He is just so... tired. 

The sun shining through the window lets him know that it must now be afternoon. And still Dean has not moved. He can hear Bobby as he talks on the phone, curses at a book, or goes outside; for the most part, though, it’s quiet. Dean can hardly think past the white noise in his ears. He doesn’t feel afraid, or worried, or sad right now. In fact, he feels nothing. He doesn’t know whether that’s such a good thing.

He hears Bobby a few hours later coming up the stairs. He knows he needs to get up. To pretend that nothing is wrong and that he’s just been busy, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice comes from the doorway. Dean is turned away. “You all right?”

Dean thinks about that. He must not be. Something is wrong. It feels like his brain is somehow silent and screaming at the same time, but all he whispers is, “I’m fine.”

He closes his eyes and waits a few minutes before he hears Bobby leave. 

———

Bobby stares at his boy, wondering what happened to make Dean crack. He knows better than to call John. It would just end in fighting from all sides, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even know that Dean is here. 

Bobby is at a loss trying to think of how he can bring Dean back. The boy doesn’t seem to want to do anything, content on just laying there to die. Bobby will be damned if he lets that happen. He walks back down the stairs, thinking about the weeks Dean and Sam had spent here at Bobby’s. He thinks of the giggling, the trouble they could always find, the messes... and even the unhappier times where one brother would always comfort the other. 

Bobby shakes his head, trying to rid the memories. He knows something that may help now, but he groans at the thought of having to do it. He makes his way to the kitchen and picks up the phone. 

“Bobby?” Sam voice comes through the phone, sounding confused. 

“Hey, Sam.” There’s a pause. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Is something wrong, Bobby?”

Bobby sighs, running a hand down his face. “It’s Dean-“

Sam cuts him off before he can finish. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”

“Sam, calm down and let me finish,” Bobby says sharply. “Take a deep breath and listen. Dean is fine. He’s not dead. He’s not hurt. Not physically, anyway.”

“Not physically? What does that mean?” Sam still sounds frantic, making Bobby’s eyes roll. 

“Well, if you’d let me speak you’d know. Now shut up and take a deep breath.” Bobby hears Sam follow his order. “Dean showed up yesterday and hasn’t been out of bed since. He’s not eating, he’s not talking, he hasn’t even used the freaking bathroom. I know you’re busy, kid, but I don’t know what else to do. Your the only one that can get the Idjit out of his head.”

Bobby hears Sam take a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Sam, I think this is Dean’s last effort. His eyes...” It’s Bobby’s turn to take a breath. “Sam, he looks like he’s already gone.”

Sam makes a small sound in the back of his throat. “Okay. Okay. I-I need to see him.”

“Why else do you think I’d call?” 

Sam snorts. “Okay, um, I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

The line goes dead. “Goodbye to you too.”

———

It’s about midnight the next night when Sam pulls into Bobby’s driveway. He’s exhausted, not having stopped except if he absolutely had to. As he watches the house come closer, though, the exhaustion leaks away into worry for his brother. He called Bobby a few hours ago and Dean still hadn’t left the bed. 

Sam turns the engine off and takes a deep breath. He can see the light on downstairs, not surprising him. Bobby seems to be researching 24/7. Sam reaches to grab the bag he brought and then walks into the house, not bothering to knock. 

“Bobby?” He calls. 

Bobby appears at the doorway to his library. “Hey, Sam.”

Despite the situation, Sam feels the tension that seems to never leave his shoulders relax at being back with Bobby. Bobby comes closer and Sam wraps him in a hug that Bobby accepts easily. They part and Bobby rubs his eyes. 

“How’s school?” Bobby asks. 

Sam winces. “Dean told you?”

“‘Course he did, Idjit. He’s proud of you.”

Sam feels a sting in his eyes, blaming it on the lack of sleep. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I left, Bobby.”

Bobby looks less than impressed. “You got out. I know your brother understands. He’s probably just hurt and doesn’t know how to talk about it.”

“Yeah,” Sam huffs out a laugh, not meeting the elder’s eyes. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right, boy. Now, how about we go see about that brother of yours.”

Sam nods, letting Bobby lead the way to the bedroom that he and Dean have always shared. 

Sam stops short when he sees Dean. He looks so... small. Dean has never looked small and Sam doesn’t know how to feel. Dean lays facing where Sam is standing. Sam can see that his older brother’s eyes are open but not seeing anything. The empty look makes Sam’s stomach clench. How did he get this bad?

Bobby stays at the doorway as Sam approached the bed. Sam tries to swallow around the emotion in his throat. 

“Dean?” Sam gets no response. Not even a flinch. Sam takes a minute to settle himself before nodding his head, knowing the only thing that might get Dean’s attention is time and closeness. Sam drops his bag to the corner and crawls into the bed with Dean. He lays facing him, not touching yet. Just watching. They haven’t done this in years. Growing up, this is how they always comforted each other, no matter the issue. The brother that was hurting less would get into bed with the other and just wait. And knowing that your someone is there when you feel like you cant move can almost solve everything. So Sam lays there, facing Dean, waiting for his brother to feel a bit more steady. 

Sam doesn’t know how much time has passed, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He heard Bobby leave some time ago, but he knows that he didn’t go far. Sam is still looking at his brother, taking in everything his face is showing him. The sadness, the anger, but most of all the emptiness. 

Finally, finally, Dean’s eyes move up Sam’s face to look at him for the first time since he got here. 

“Hi,” Sam whispers. 

Dean’s lips twitch into a small smile, making Sam’s chest ease. “Hi,” he whispers back. 

The silence stretches again, and Sam almost feels himself drifting off when he hears Dean whisper again. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Sammy.”

Sam stops breathing, fear coursing through his body. “What do you mean?”

Dean searches for something in Sam’s eyes. “I’m so tired. I just... I want it to stop.”

“You want what to stop?” Sam curse his voice for shaking. 

“I-I don’t know. I want to be okay again, but I can’t be. I don’t know what to do, Sammy.”

The hopeless feeling in Sam’s chest rises and he watches tears pool in Dean’s eyes. “De, it’s okay. Whatever it is. It’s going to be okay.”

Dean rolls onto his back and covers his eyes, the first Sam’s seen him move this entire time. “How do you know? Sam, I have no one. And I’m scared. All the time. Dad’s never around and when he is, I can feel that it’s not me he wants with him. I’m exhausted. I thought- I thought that being at Bobby’s would help and then maybe the feeling of needing to end everything would o away, but it’s not. So now...” Dean turns and stares Sam dead in the eye. “I want to be done, Sammy. I just want to be done.”

Sam trails the stray tear that marks Dean’s cheek and has to close his eyes. God. He’d always known that Dean sometimes got... sad, but hearing Dean himself describe how bad it is? It’s almost too much. 

“Dean,” Sam clears his throat. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you. I’ve always needed you. You’re my big brother. You raised me.” Sam knows, he knows that what he’s about to say will be cruel, but he just needs Dean to listen. “If you died, Dean, I want to die, too. I don’t want to live in a world without my brother. Please, Dean. I need you,” he whispers again. 

Sam can hear Dean breathing. One. Two. Three breaths later, Dean rolls to face him again. “Okay. You won’t have to, Sammy. I promise.” 

Sam’s breath leaves him in a sob. He grabs Dean’s shoulder and hugs him, not minding the awkwardness of the position. They stay like that, silent tears streaming from two sets of eyes. 

Dean pulls away first. “I missed you, Sammy.”

Sam smiles a little. “I missed you, too.” Sam sighs, enjoying the new feeling of relief coursing through him. He had been so scared after Bobby called. He ran out of the apartment, hardly sparing time for the people that were around him. All he knew was that his brother needed him. Nothing could stop Sam from coming. He left without a backwards glance. He hadn’t even stopped for food. Just the thought of food has his stomach growling. “Dean, I’m starving. And if what Bobby has told me is true, which it is, you need to eat, too. Come on,” Sam slaps Dean’s shoulder, praying he takes the bait. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

Dean grumbles a little, but gets up. Sam feels a smile stretch across his face as the grumbling from the other continues. Yeah, they’ll be okay. With each other, they’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments would be amazing!


End file.
